


Eos

by RoseThornhill



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Immortality, Post-Episode: s06e10 Tithonus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-02 12:46:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20276137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseThornhill/pseuds/RoseThornhill
Summary: Immediately following the events of "Tithonus," Scully ponders her potential immortality. Once it is a possibility, immortality doesn't sound so good anymore.





	Eos

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DSI_ScullyGibson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DSI_ScullyGibson/gifts).

> I answered the following prompt for DSI_ScullyGibson:
> 
> Post-ep or when Scully is in the hospital at the end of the episode. Scully remembers when Clyde Bruckman told her she wouldn't die, and realises that she now has likely taken Alfred Fellig's place since he made her look away from Death. I would also like to see Mulder's reaction to her immortality.

Mulder watched Scully closely. She looked dour; sad; anxious. He kept his expression light, an attempt to put her at ease. But it wasn't difficult for him. He was almost giddy. She was going to be okay, despite the traumatic gut shot. Mulder could barely hide his happiness at Scully’s recovery - as long as he didn't think about Ritter. Thinking about how Ritter was so singularly focused on catching Fellig instead of being a good partner made him want to punch the young agent in the face.

Scully said nothing; she was lost in thought about the possibility of living forever, about how unlikely that is, pondering what kind of scientific research it would take to prove or disprove.

"Your doctor said you could go home today," Mulder said, hoping that would cheer her up, snap her out of her funk. “Long weekend!” She nodded absently, and Mulder wasn't even sure she heard him, or if she was just reacting because she knew that her part of the conversation had come.

***

Ritter was waiting for them, hours later, as Mulder escorted Scully out of the hospital. He offered to take her home, until Mulder shot him a look of pure death. Ritter wisely backed away.

The ride home was quiet. Mulder didn't push. He walked her upstairs, into her apartment. "Um, Mulder, I'm tired. I think I'm just going to go to bed."

"Do you need any help?" Under any other circumstance, this might have been Mulder's attempt at flirting; today, he was entirely genuine.

"I would love some tea," she said softly. Mulder jumped to it, leaving Scully to change into pajamas. He was barely in the kitchen when he heard her yelp. Rushing back to the bedroom, he saw she was stuck halfway out of her sweater. He looked away quickly, but Scully didn’t seem to notice or care that she was half undressed. 

“I think I need help,” she admitted. Mulder took a few steps into the room, still keeping his gaze averted. “Mulder, it’s fine,” she grumbled. She was in too much pain to care what he saw or pretended not to see. 

Mulder took a deep breath and helped Scully into her pajamas. He tried not to focus on the glimpses of creamy skin he got. Her jagged surgical scar helped jar him out of his inappropriate mindset and secure him in the here and now.

When the tea was ready (he knew how she liked it: a splash of milk and a dollop of honey) he found her already settled in bed. Her fluffy down comforter seemed to dwarf her, making her look tiny. Her sad expression made her look fragile.

He sat beside her and tenderly caressed her cheek. "I’ll let you get some rest. Is there anything I can get you before I leave?"

"Mulder, do you really believe immortality is a possibility?" she asked. Her tone was both scared and hopeful.

"Scully, what is going on?" He was genuinely concerned. It wasn’t like Scully to question something so improbable as immortality. The only thing that he knew would cause her to think this way was religion. He hoped it wasn’t religion.

She hesitated. “Do you remember the case we had a few years ago? Clyde Bruckman? The man who could see how someone was going to die?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Well, he told me that I don’t die.”

Mulder considered this. Saw it was troubling her. Well, at least it’s not religious, Mulder thought to himself, as he was of no help there. But he could see where her preoccupation with the idea was coming from. Two separate incidents, years apart, tied to one another. 

The thought that she would live forever was calming to him. He greeted the thought with the proper amount of skepticism, though - Scully-levels of skepticism. When it came to Scully, he didn’t fuck around. He didn’t want to think that Scully actually was immortal, then be proven wrong in the worst way. “Scully, you never believed in Bruckman’s powers.”

“You do.”

“He told me I would die of auto-erotic asphyxiation.” He rolled his eyes at the suggestion. “I have curbed my ambitions substantially.”

Scully attempted a weak smile but it died on her lips. “Fellig told me that when he was taking photos, he was looking for Death, hoping to make up for the chance to die he gave up a hundred years ago. He gave himself to Death in order to save me.” She thought about this for a moment, remembered how miserable Fellig seemed to be. “Or to save himself.”

They were quiet for a moment. 

“Is that going to be me? Enjoying immortality for 50 or 100 years, then regretting it when I outlive my mother, my brothers… you?” She looked down when she mentioned him, as if she was embarrassed that she had included him in the same thought as her family. 

Mulder tried to hide the smile that bloomed from her barely-hidden affection for him. He didn’t know how to respond. “Rest Scully. It’s been a long week. We can discuss the probability and ethical dilemmas of immortality when you are feeling stronger. There is some takeout in the fridge if you get hungry. And if you need me, you call me, no matter the time.”

He fluffed her pillows and tucked her in. “Thanks Mulder,” she said. Her voice sounded small, distant. Mulder gave her a kiss on her forehead before he took his leave. 

***

Pure exhaustion was the only thing that helped Scully sleep. Her mind was still reeling over the possibilities and consequences of immortality. 

This invaded her sleep. She had nightmares about outliving Mulder; about outliving her usefulness; about outliving her interest in life. 

***

Mulder tried calling Scully the next day, but she didn’t answer her phone. He decided to swing by and bring her some more food, just in case.

He let himself in using his key, something that he never did. He didn’t like to infringe upon her privacy, but he didn’t want to disturb her and make her answer the door. Upon entering, he called out to her from the doorway, making his presence known. She must be asleep, he thought, until he heard a whimpering that sent him racing into her bedroom. A million different panicked thoughts flooded his mind. Did she pop her stitches? Is she bleeding out? Is there someone else here?

He was relieved to find that Scully was just trapped in a nightmare. Of all the possibilities, that seemed the most banal. He sat beside her, and stroked her hair. He wasn’t sure if he should wake her or not, so he thought he would just try to calm her down. She did not wake, but eventually the whimpering and thrashing subsided. He stayed a little longer, just to make sure she found peace.

***

Scully wasn’t sure what day it was, or how long she had been home. She was aware that that wasn’t good, and it indicated depression. But she couldn’t quite bring herself to get out of bed.

She had been thinking a lot about her potential immortality. Her scientific mind couldn’t put together the empirical facts that would back up the theory; yet she was proof. The gunshot should have killed her. From what she was able to piece together, the bullet damaged her stomach, liver, and diaphragm, and she lost a lot of blood before making it to the hospital. If she had encountered someone with her injuries while working in the ER, she would not expect the patient to survive.

Scully realized that, with the potential of this being a reality, she was a lot more terrified at the thought of living forever. It sounded good in theory, but in practice…. 

The skeptic in her didn’t believe it. Wouldn’t believe it. But the religious part of her kind of wanted to believe it. The conflict in her was overwhelming. 

She had almost died so many times in the past. Those little glowing bugs in the forest. Donnie Pfaster. Eugene Tooms. Leonard Betts. Her cancer. She had survived each incident, and many more. Had each of those been luck? Destiny? Her ability to look out for herself? Her partner’s ability to look out for her?

It made her head swim. It made her not want to leave the perceived safety of her own bed.

She tried to figure out a scientific way to either prove or disprove this hypothesis. But unfortunately all she could come up with was to try to kill herself. At first, she dismissed this idea out-of-hand. The longer she sat with this, the more she thought about it, the less insane that sounded.

And in her moments of lucidity, that scared the hell out of her.

She idly ran through different methods of testing her theory. Not because she wanted to do it, but because she was hoping that by thinking about it more, she could kill the thought. Swallowing pills would be simple and easy, but if she vomited them up, that wouldn’t prove anything. She was only five floors up, so throwing herself out the window probably wouldn’t yield anything besides broken bones. There was always her service weapon, but that was way too messy. 

***

Mulder didn’t expect Scully to come in to work that Monday. He was glad she was taking her time to heal, but by Tuesday, Mulder was getting worried. It wasn’t like Scully to miss work, but more than that, it was certainly out of character for her to not even call. He made the decision to visit her after work.

***

When Mulder arrived at Scully’s apartment this time, he knocked. And knocked. And knocked. Finally, he used his key. 

The apartment was unsettlingly quiet. It didn’t look like Scully had left her room since she returned from the hospital. Mulder checked her bedroom. Empty. Her bathroom door was ajar.

He was not prepared for what he saw.

Scully was sitting on the toilet, a razor in her hand. She was cutting her wrist, with the slow, skilled methodology of a surgeon.

“Scully!” he cried, snatching the razor from her hand. He stemmed the bleeding with a towel, but luckily he got there before she had done too much damage.

She was confused. “Mulder, what are you doing?” 

“What am I doing? What are you doing?” 

“I’m trying to figure out if I am immortal or not,” she replied simply, as if it was completely normal to be experimenting on herself.

Mulder brushed her hair back and cupped her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him. There was something… not quite right in her eyes. He wasn’t sure what it was, but it scared the hell out of him.

“Scully… you were trying to kill yourself.” His tone was solemn, intense, frightened. He held her gaze.

“But… I’m immortal,” she said, confused. “Aren’t I?”

Mulder didn’t know what to say. He wanted to believe she was immortal, and wasn’t ready to completely dismiss the idea… but he didn’t want to risk her killing herself. 

“No, Scully. You’re not.”

Those big, beautiful blue eyes stared back at him, looking for the truth. She found it in his eyes. Regardless of the truth behind her alleged immortality, Mulder’s eyes were filled with love and fear. They brought her back to the real world, to the rational scientist who would never believe immortality was a possibility. 

And she crumbled. 

She cried. Mulder wrapped his arms around her, providing her the proverbial shoulder. She took it.

“Mulder… I don’t know… I would never try to kill myself,” she gasped between sobs. She felt impossibly small in his arms.

Mulder was at a loss. He didn’t know what to do. Scully wasn’t depressed; she was… confused? Disoriented? Concussed? He held her, let her cry.

As Scully’s sobs subsided, Mulder scrambled for something to say to her. Something that would be comforting, yet not judgemental. He could tell she was embarrassed about her behavior. “Scully, have you eaten since you’ve been home?”

She was silent for a moment. She hadn’t. Then she burst out laughing. It was the laughter of relief, like when you laugh after a big scare during a horror film. He took that as a no, and the partners went to the kitchen, where Mulder heated up some food for the two of them.

They chatted while they ate. Mulder kept the conversation light - deeper than “how about that weather” small talk, but nothing about work. By the time they were done eating, Scully was back to her old self. Mulder couldn’t help but wonder if her five day fast had anything to do with her state of mind. Questions for another day, Mulder thought to himself as he tucked Scully back into bed.

“I’ll pick you up for work tomorrow morning,” he promised, “with bagels. And real cream cheese.”

“Thank you Mulder. And thank you for not treating me like I am crazy.” She spoke softly, almost shyly. He kissed the back of her hand and stood to leave. He was barely out the door to her bedroom when she called him back in.

“Would you… would you mind staying with me tonight? Just to make sure I don’t… do it again?”

He smiled brightly. Of course he would.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is named for Tithonus' lover, Eos.


End file.
